Chapter 1 - The Song of the Ainur

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Galadriel stood before her mirror, the water still and silver-clear.

She did not blink an eye, nor even really breathe. Rather, she saw in her mind the great dark born of fire, and the sieges upon Arda, and the terrible anguish of men.

 Rather, she saw in her mind the great dark born of fire, and the sieges upon Arda, and the terrible anguish of men

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"It does not change," spoke Celeborn, who stood beside her, watching.

"It does not." Galadriel lifted her gaze to him. "The Eye of Sauron will be renewed. We will not last here should he find victory."

"No, we shall not. And the others know?"

"The kingdom of Elrond speaks of leaving for the Undying Lands. They would not tarry here, with the waining of grace."

Celeborn considered calmly her words. "And the rest...those of the Havens and the Woodland Realm?"

"Most will leave. Although I cannot say for Mirkwood. Its king is divided within himself. His feet remain planted, though his heart dwells in another place."

"Would he stay and fight then?"

"It is possible, for he guards his lands as a testament to his life and all that he has loved. He will not leave it readily."

"And would his people endure it? Have they any chance of defense? The Mirkwood has grown poisoned by fell things..."

"The enduring of Thranduil's people depends upon that of his spirit. The Woodland Realm is most vulnerable to Sauron's power, now, and the king dwells in darkness still."

"Then...it is time?"

Galadriel glanced once more into her mirror, then spoke to her husband in thought.

"He is lost, Celeborn, and he would dwell always in this place but for her return."

"I see this. Still, I had wished him more changed before ever she went to him. She is too dear to me."

"Not our desire, but the sight of the heavens decides. The Ainur have woven their song into being. Now we must listen."

"And will we tell her of this?"

"No. It is their spirits must remember, their hearts must recognize, before ever their minds will conceive it."

"Then let us hope they will, before it is too late."

~~

The bridge that joined our city to the golden woods was called Amatúlie, and I stood upon it now, the low sun casting its warm light upon the water below.

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